


Good Times, Bad Times

by PeakyFookinBlinders (Sherlocked729)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maylor like no tomorrow, One Shot Collection, Panic Attacks, Ranges from the years 1970-1986, fluff like a mofo, wild goose chases
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-03-29 14:06:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19021465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked729/pseuds/PeakyFookinBlinders
Summary: A collection of Bohemian Rhapsody one-shots based on various prompts I've found on Wattpad.The tags don't apply to one single one-shot story, and are added but are to be applied to the collection as a whole. Also, the pairings aren't relevant to every story either; it might differ in every one-shot I write but there will be repeats. If the relationship is the same as another, they might not be in the same timeline but if you want to assume it is, then that's fine.Basically a bunch of different short fics I've written about the guys helping each other, comforting each other, being hurt by each other, and sharing good times and bad times together.Fic's title is taken from the Led Zeppelin song "Good Times Bad Times."





	1. I heard a noise

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first collection of one-shots. I couldn't bring myself to do them separately because if I'm going to write them, I want them all in one place. 
> 
> I'll add tags as it applies. The collection's time and location will range from the early Smile years up through Queen Live Aid. Each one will probably be different lengths as well. This first one is shorter, but usually my chapters can reach up to 6,000 words. 
> 
> If you like reading these, be sure to comment, kudos, bookmark and subscribe!

**.     .     .**

  
  
“I heard a noise.”

Brian tensed ever so slightly and looked over at Roger in amusement. “A noise? What sort of noise, exactly, Rog?” The chill in the air made the guitarist’s arm hair stand up on end and he rubbed his arms with his hands in a feeble attempt to warm his body as the two men stood outside their flat.

Roger shrugged but was looking somewhat nervous. “I don’t know. A noise someone made from inside, Bri? Like someone tripped and fell and broke something!”

Brian sighed, trying to keep his patience intact. He gave his best friend a skeptical look. “Roger, there are two others who live here with us. You _do_ remember, don’t you?”

The drummer looked as if he wasn’t understanding where the other man was going with this. “Yeah, what’s your point?”

Brian gently rubbed the bridge of his nose. “My point is, Rog, that couldn’t it be possible that one of them are inside and could’ve made that noise?”

Roger’s face relaxed in realization now but then he shook his head. “Bri, the lights are off! The door was locked… don’t you think if one of them was in there, they’d have lights on, at least?”

The older man would’ve felt like the idiotic one if he wasn’t so sure of himself. “It’s nearly one in the morning! They’re probably sleeping. Come on.” He put his key into the lock and turned it, hearing the satisfying _click_ as the door unlocked itself and Brian led them inside, closing the door behind Roger.

Then there was another crash.

“See?” Roger said in a hushed whisper now, looking around for a weapon and ended up grabbing a nearby book.

Brian saw him do this and then took the book from him. “Not my physics book, Rog. Here, if you insist on using a book as a weapon, use the one on cosmological objects in space; it’s thicker.” He handed the blonde the larger book and then looked around himself for a weapon but couldn’t find one so he settled for the keys in his hand, placing them between each finger.

He motioned for the younger man to stay behind him and then slowly started to walk through the house towards where he heard the sounds of rummaging coming from. Brian looked around to see if anyone was hurt or anything but he didn’t see any signs of John nor Freddie.

“Where the bloody hell is everyone?” Roger whispered worriedly behind him.

Brian put his fingers to his lips and he started opening doors. He felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, tempted to yell out names to see who would respond but he wanted to get the drop on whoever was in their flat.

“Okay, this is just ridiculous now,” Roger sighed and opened his mouth. Before he could get any words out, Brian quickly put his hand over the drummer’s mouth.

“If there is someone here, then don’t you want to have the advantage?” Brian asked rhetorically but was met with Roger’s frustrated eyes. He took his hand off of his mouth.

“I don’t care anymore, Bri,” he shook his head. “Freddie! Deaky! Either of you here?”

Brian felt like he could’ve killed him just then and stood stiff in the darkened flat and then heard footsteps coming towards them. He saw Roger move back quickly out of his peripheral vision but he stood firm where he was, clenching the keys tightly in his hand.

Someone flicked the switch now and looked at the two men in amusement before they began laughing.

“What on _earth_ are you two doing? Roger? Were you really going to hit me with that book? That would’ve killed me!” Freddie exclaimed, looking between the two men.

Brian relaxed and breathed an audible sigh of relief, putting his keys back in his pocket when he saw the singer come out to them. He took his jacket off, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Jesus, Freddie… we were knocking for ages! Didn’t you hear us?”

Freddie looked confused at first before he looked almost embarrassed a moment later. “I’m truly sorry, darling. I’ve had a few glasses of champagne tonight and I was trying to find my bed in the dark. I kept tripping on every fucking thing in the damn room!”

This didn’t really answer Brian’s question but he decided to let it go. “We thought someone had broken in. Where’s John?”

“Oh, John is asleep. He’s had some champagne as well but he fell asleep before me, poor dear,” Freddie answered. “Wait a minute… you thought someone had broken in and locked the door behind them, then?”

Brian sighed, feeling a bit foolish now but he shrugged. “Maybe to give the illusion that they hadn’t actually broken in. I didn’t know what to think, honestly. We could hear you making crashing noises from outside.”

Freddie tied his bathrobe securely before he smirked. “Well, I do apologize again, darlings. I didn’t mean to make either of you fret.”

“Jesus, Freddie!” Roger exclaimed now, in delayed reaction to the situation. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Well, I refuse to apologize a third time. Don’t worry, Rog… no one would want to steal your impressive collection of condoms in your bedside table.”

The drummer’s face visibly paled now. “How did you know –"

“Let’s just say I might have needed to borrow some a few times when you weren’t around.” There was a slight smirk on the singer’s face, and Roger just huffed and walked into his bedroom to go to sleep.


	2. the floor is lava

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place in the early Smile years around 1969/1970, after Tim is gone.

**.    .    .**

“Roger, not to be crude but what the hell are you doing up there darling?”

The drummer was standing on top of a couch cushion with his arms out to steady himself after jumping up on the piece of furniture. “The floor is lava, Freddie! You’re going to die!”

The singer raised an eyebrow and looked at him in a mixture of amusement and confusion. “Have you gone completely mad, dear?” He took a drag of his cigarette before he shook his head.

Roger hopped from the couch over to the coffee table, his face looking genuinely fearful as he looked down at the carpet which was, in fact, not covered in volcanic lava. “Hurry, Fred! You’re standing right in it! You need to get up here before it’s too late!”

The singer was now looking at the blonde with a growing concern in his eyes. He grabbed the landline phone and pulled the cord with it before he elegantly moved on top of an armchair before he half sat down on it and then dialed a number.

Roger wasn’t paying attention to whom Freddie was calling, absorbed in his own world right now as he threw several pillows down on the floor before he jumped across them like frogs on lily pads, making his way into the kitchen where he then proceeded to climb on top of a kitchen stool to grab a bag of crisps. He perched on the counter, tucking his slender body into himself as he rested on the countertop, crunching on a handful of crisps as if this were just an everyday occurrence.

He had been so involved in his game that he nearly fell off the counters when he heard the front door open and close and then saw Brian walking over to him with worry edged in his face as the guitarist looked up at him.

“Rog, are you all right?”

The drummer felt a tightness in his chest he recognized as anxiety but he nodded. “I’m fine, Bri. _You’re_ the one who’s going to get burned alive, though! Hurry up! Get up here!”

Freddie’s amusement was quickly turning into a similar worrisome expression that the older man wore as he followed Brian into the kitchen. He looked over at him. “What is this? What exactly is happening here?”

Brian chewed on his bottom lip before he sighed. He couldn’t blame Freddie for having been amused at their friend’s actions; they hadn’t been living together very long, save for Roger and Brian. Tim had only recently moved out, and Freddie had only very recently moved in. He wasn’t privy to all of Roger’s coping techniques yet.

“This happens sometimes with him,” he explained, eyeing Roger carefully to make sure that he wasn’t about to slip off and hurt himself. “When he’s particularly stressed out about uni or if something’s bothering him. This is… his anxiety helping him deal with the stress by not dealing with it.”

Freddie looked at him almost incredulously. “That’s absolutely mad!”

Brian nodded and shrugged. He had known Roger for a while now, and he was ashamed how he had acted towards the drummer when he first saw him act this way, not having known any better. The more time he spent with Roger, however, the more he got to recognize the signs.

He looked up at the younger man who had put the crisps off to the side and was now standing precariously on the counter, his palms against the ceiling to hold himself in place.

“Come on down, Rog… I’ll make some tea and we can talk, yeah?”

Roger shook his head before he walked across the counter quickly before jumping across the pillows again and then moving onto a taller table that sat against the couch, knocking over a cup of long forgotten tea and sending it crashing to the floor.

“Damn it, Rog!” Brian sighed but Freddie gave him a wave as if to say ‘don’t worry about it. Just deal with him.’ He gave the singer a grateful nod and then moved closer to the drummer who looked like he was starting to have difficulty breathing as his anxiety got worse.

He needed to calm him down before he sent himself into a full blown panic attack. Brian moved onto the couch beside where his friend was standing, Roger’s eyes wide. He moved closer to the younger man and put his hand on his arm.

“Roger, come closer to me, all right? I’ll protect you from the lava.”

The drummer looked at him almost skeptically at first, but he could feel the tears in his eyes blurring his vision of the older man, and it was getting harder to breathe. He nodded weakly and then jumped over to the couch but he felt himself miss it by inches.

Brian quickly wrapped his arms around Roger, pulling him over towards him so the two of them fell down together on the couch, the blonde narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the coffee table. He didn’t let go of Roger when they were both sitting on the couch; on the contrary, he held him closer against his chest, feeling relief.

“B-Bri… I c-can’t… I don’t w-want to…” Roger wheezed, yelling out in frustration as his chest and his lungs seemed to tighten. He felt hot tears running down his cheeks.

The guitarist released him slightly to give him room to move and breathe, but he still kept an arm around him, his legs out on either side of the man. “You’re all right. Do what we’ve practiced, yeah? Inhale slowly through your nose, hold it, then release it through your mouth… breathe with me, okay?”

Brian felt Roger nod against his chest and he inhaled, feeling the drummer weakly inhale as well before he held it for a beat, and then let it out. “You’re doing good, mate. A few more times, all right?” He repeated his actions again, and felt Roger hold the breath a bit longer this time before he exhaled again.

The older man almost absentmindedly ran his fingers through the man’s hair, knowing that soft, physical touch helped to ground the drummer. The first time he had tried this had been unsuccessful, causing Roger to yelp loudly and jump away from him, but the more Brian did it during his panic attacks, the more Roger grew to let it help him.

“Good,” he cooed. “You’re doing so good, mate. Just keep breathing…”

Roger nodded and focused on the oxygen moving in and out of his lungs, looking across the room at Freddie who was sipping tea and smiling sympathetically at the drummer. Just then he heard the door open again and didn’t need to look over to know who had walked in.

“Another panic attack?” John asked not unkindly, placing two large bags of groceries on the counter.

“The floor turned into lava again,” Brian nodded. John had only recently moved in with them, just as Freddie had, but Brian knew that John also suffered from anxiety and panic attacks. Of all of them, John appeared to be the most understanding about it, and had even helped Roger get through them when no one else had been home at the time.

Brian felt like he owed him a debt he could never repay.

The bassist nodded understandingly and let Freddie unload the groceries before he walked into the hallway bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, wet it with cold water, and then took it back into the living room where the two men half lay on the couch.

John gently rested it against Roger’s forehead and Brian saw him genuinely relax, closing his eyes. “There you are, mate.”

Brian gave him a small smile and then took the washcloth from him, holding it gently against his friend’s forehead. “Thanks, Deaky. Go on and help Freddie. I got this.”

The bassist gave Roger’s shoulder a comforting caress before he nodded obediently and hurried into the kitchen to help Freddie unload groceries.

“Is the floor still lava, Rog?” Brian whispered softly to him.

Roger shook his head.

“Do you think you can talk about what you’re stressing about now?”

The drummer nodded slowly and let out a small exhale before he started to discuss what had made him panic, in full detail, being careful not to omit anything as Brian willingly listened to him.


	3. get out of my way before I murder you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! You have no idea how happy they make me when I see them.

**.      .     .**

  
“Roger, where is it?”

The drummer looked up from reading his magazine from his place on the couch. “Sorry?” He closed the magazine and set it aside. “Where’s what, Brian?”

The older man sighed heavily, not having the time or patience for this right now. He raised his brows expectantly, waiting for his friend to give him answers to no avail.

“Where’s Red?”

Roger shook his head but it was evident on his face that he knew _exactly_ what the guitarist was talking about, which only frustrated him more.

“Red… my Red Special, Rog. Where is it? What have you done with it?” Brian started looking behind the couch, underneath it, behind the armchairs… he didn’t know where exactly to look, but those places seemed to be the most likely were his friend would hide it.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about, Bri. What would _I_ do with _your_ guitar?” Roger replied, his voice casual.

Brian walked over to him quickly, his hands on his hips. “Where is it, Rog? What’d you do with it?” When the drummer shrugged again with a slight smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth, Brian shook his head, tonguing his cheek. “I left it out here against the wall last night, and now it’s disappeared. What did you do with my guitar?”

Roger sighed and stood up before he walked into the kitchen, Brian hot on his heels. “Perhaps someone broke in and stole it.”

“Nope,” Brian said quickly before he gently turned the younger man around. “You took it. Why would you take my Red Special, Rog? You don’t even play! This is ridiculous. Just tell me where it is so we can start the day.”

The blonde poured his coffee. “I told you, I don’t know where it is, Bri. Maybe you should take better care of your instrument like I do.”

“Like you do?” Brian scoffed now. “Unbelievable. There are visible sweat spots on your cymbals because you don’t wipe them down! Your drumsticks are fading because you don’t wipe _anything_ down after you’re finished with them! Don’t even tell me I don’t take care of Red. Now where is it?”

Roger hummed to himself before he took a sip of coffee and then lit up a cigarette after he sat down at the table. “No idea.”

Brian quickly snatched the cigarette out of Roger’s mouth and then, just as quickly grabbed the package of cigarettes that were sitting on the table before he smirked vindictively at Roger.

“Oi! Give those back!” Roger shot up as if he had heard a gun firing.

“Give back my guitar,” Brian challenged, holding Roger’s cigarettes hostage now. “Just tell me where it is and you can smoke all you want.”

Roger was no longer looking as cocky as he had been moments ago. He chewed anxiously on his lower lip, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Y-You have to promise you won’t do it again!”

“Do what, exactly?”

“You know what!” Roger insisted.

The older man sighed and shook his head. “We don’t have time to play games, Rog! We need to get to our band meeting before Freddie has an aneurysm because we haven’t showed up yet! You really want to deal with him being upset about getting there late?”

“He’s _always_ late for band meetings though,” Roger whined.

Brian moved past Roger, pocketing Roger’s cigarettes as hostages before he walked towards the bathroom and started searching. He pulled back the curtain of the shower, then looking underneath the sink, in the linen closet… feeling like he was reaching the end of his rope with the drummer.

“Oh yeah,” the other man scoffed sardonically. “I put your guitar in the shower! Do you think I’m that thick, Bri? Really?”

Brian raised an eyebrow before he shook his head. “Honestly, Rog, I sometimes wonder. Just tell me where it is! Tell me where it is before I strangle you with your own hair.”

“No! I won’t tell you because… because you did that _thing_! This is me getting my revenge because what you did was out of line!” Roger exclaimed.

The guitarist looked at him with a growing fury and threw his arms up in the air. “What the bloody hell did I do to you?! Tell me so we can end this silly game!” He moved past Roger, heading towards the drummer’s room.

It was now when Roger quickly ran in front of his door and stood up tall in an attempt to make himself look bigger.

“Get out of the way, Roger.”

“No.” The blonde stayed put.

Brian knew that he could very well easily force the shorter man aside but he wanted Roger to be an adult about this. As their row continued, however, he was rapidly losing hope in that wish, being replaced by an increase in impatience instead.

“Get out of my way before I murder you,” Brian threatened. Of course, his threat was empty and he’d never _actually_ murder the younger man, but he was losing his temper.

Roger’s hold didn’t budge, but he was looking weaker by the minute. “I-I’ll move, but only if you _swear_ on your life that you won’t say what you said before in the future!”

Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose before he looked at Roger in confusion. “What did I say before? When?”

“You know,” Roger was looking a bit embarrassed now. “To…” he thought for a solid minute. “Laura.”

“Lauren,” Brian corrected, something finally clicking in his head but couldn’t go out the way. “What did I say to her that you didn’t like, again?”

“You… you told her about… about my, you know, my cock.”

Brian’s brows came together before he let out an absurd laugh now. “What on earth are you talking about, Roger? Believe me, your cock is literally the furthest thing from my mind, and hopefully my body as long as we live.”

Roger was looking like the impatient one now and he sighed. “You told her it was small!”

“Oh,” Brian said in realization now, nodding. He _had_ said that to one of the young women Roger had been talking to after a show. “To be fair, I didn’t exactly say it like that.”

“You said it wasn’t as large as my ego! Schematics!”

Brian took a deep breath to reel his patience back in before he completely lost it with his best friend. “The word you’re looking for is ‘semantics,’ Rog, and this is what you’re so upset about? That happened two weeks ago! Why didn’t you hide my guitar then?”

Roger shrugged. “I-I don’t know… it didn’t bother me at the time! I’ve had time to think about it, I guess.”

The older man looked at his friend with almost apologetic eyes, anything to get Red back again. “Fine, Roger. I’m sorry, all right? I swear I’ll never tell anyone that your cock is smaller than your ego. Satisfied?”

The blonde looked resistant at first but then nodded before he opened the door and got down on his stomach on the floor by his bed. Brian thought he was going to start doing pushups or something until he saw Roger grab something and pull it out before he handed it over to Brian.

The other man examined it carefully for any signs of damage done to it, but breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was safe and sound. He looked at Roger disapprovingly who was looking at him expectantly. “What?”

“My cigarettes, Bri!”

“Oh, right.” He pulled them out of his pockets and then handed it back to Roger who pocketed them back.

Roger appeared to relax now and started out of his bedroom, Brian close behind him again.

“Don’t worry, Rog. No one can ever truthfully say that anything is bigger than your ego.”


	4. where the fuck is my fucking shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one wasn't on Wattpad but I sort of made it up myself. The next one-shot after this will be from the site though.

**.     .    .**

“Where the fuck is my fucking shirt?”

Brian sighed, taking a sip of his coffee before glancing over at Freddie with exasperated eyes. The singer just smirked at him and leaned back in his chair before taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Well?” Roger stormed into the kitchen, his face looking beyond frustrated, on the verge of anger. “Where the hell is it?”

At first Brian thought he was asking him but when he looked at Roger, he saw the young drummer looking at Freddie, who looked amused.

“Sorry? Why the bloody hell are you looking at me, dear? You really believe I’d steal your clothes?”

Roger threw his arms up in the air. “You’re joking! You’ve taken my clothes before!”

“Yes, darling, to burn them because they were absolutely hideous!” Freddie teased. The others chuckled but tried to stay out of this argument.

“That’s utter bollocks, Freddie! You’ve worn them before! I wanted to wear my open shirt for the gig tomorrow…”

Freddie shrugged and shook his head. “No offense, Rog, but your clothing style isn’t exactly my taste. Have you looked in your closet, darling?”

Roger growled in anger now before kicking over a chair. “I’ve looked every-fucking-where! It’s not in my closet, or anywhere else! I thought maybe I left it in the van but I checked there and it’s not even in the sodding van either!”

Brian sighed again, shaking his head. “I understand you’re angry, Rog, but it’s only nine in the morning; it’s way too early to be swearing so much and for you to be kicking chairs around. Just take a breath, mate, yeah?”

The blonde placed his hands on his waist and tongued his cheek. He took a short breath but he couldn’t stop himself. “Sorry, Bri, but Freddie needs to open up to stealing my bloody shirt before I start pounding him!”

Freddie grinned and laughed softly to himself. “You’re very pretty, Roger, but you’re not quite my type, I’m afraid.”

The joke seemed to go over Roger’s head and he looked at him in confusion before he let out another frustrated growl that filled the entire room.

Brian stood up now and put his hands out towards Roger in a motion for him to calm down. “Did you leave it somewhere else? Maybe when you had a one night stand or something, perhaps? Could you have left it at their place?”

Roger shook his head. “No, it was in my goddamn closet! It was in there!”

“Have you worn it recently, Roger?” John asked, trying to be helpful as he sipped his coffee. “Maybe it’s in the laundry hamper?”

“I wore it the other day but it was still clean so I hung it back up so I could wear it today!”

Freddie let out an impatient sigh before he knocked the ash off his cigarette and walked down the hall into the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later with Roger’s white and orange open shirt. “Is this the shirt you were looking for, darling?”

Roger raced over to him and looked at it with an open mouth, staring at the red stain on the front of it. “Fucking hell, Freddie! What’d you do to it? Is that blood?”

The singer cocked his head a little to the side, looking at Roger almost challengingly, his lips turned up in continued amusement. “I already told you, Rog, I didn’t wear it, and I wouldn’t even if I didn’t have any clothes at all. I’d simply walk around naked than wear anything of yours!”

“Then who got sodding blood on it?!”

Brian could see Roger getting angrier by the second and knew he had to step in. “If there’s blood on your shirt, it’s probably from one of your drunken fights. Come on, I’ll throw it in the wash for you, mate.” He took the shirt from him but Roger wasn’t going anywhere.

The younger man planted himself firmly on the ground, his jaw clenched. “No! Not until one of you admits who stole my shirt! It’s _my_ fucking shirt! If you want to borrow it, all you have to do is ask! Why is that so hard to understand? I’d ask to borrow your things –"

Brian snorted now, unable to control himself. “No you don’t. You’ve _never_ asked to borrow any of my things. You’ve just taken it! And now this is your karma, Rog.”

The drummer looked affronted that his closest friend would dare to contradict him. “You’re fucking serious?”

“Oh for god’s sake, Roger, it was me! I took your shirt, all right?”

Freddie, Brian and Roger all turned to look over at John in unison. John Deacon never stole anything in his life, and the fact that he’d steal one of Roger’s more daring shirts was beyond interesting to them.

To Brian’s surprise, Roger’s demeanor relaxed and he looked at John with soft eyes. “You did it? Deaky, did you get into your first fight?” He looked almost like a proud father.

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry to disappoint you but it’s not blood. It’s ketchup, and I was trying to get the stain out. Sorry I stole your shirt, Roger. All my clothes were dirty, though.”

Roger cleared his throat and shrugged. “Oh, it’s all right, Deaky.”

Freddie and Brian both looked back over at Roger and then started to walk to the laundry room. The other two band mates followed closely and Brian put stain removal on the shirt before pouring laundry soap into the machine and turning it on.

“Why is it all right that he stole your shirt and got the stain on it when you were ready to kill Freddie a second ago if he had done it?”

Freddie looked at Roger with interest.

Roger shrugged. “Well, it’s Deaky, isn’t it? He hasn’t done me wrong like you two have in the past.”

“Done you wrong?” Freddie looked at the drummer in disbelief. “You’re mad, Rog. If anything, you’ve done us two more wrong than we’ve done you. We can count on our collective fingers and toes the amount of wrong you’ve done us, darling.”

The drummer scoffed and shook his head. “Well, whatever. Deaky’s Deaky. He gets exceptions sometimes.”

“What does that mean? ‘Deaky’s Deaky? He’s still a part of our family. He’s still a bloke.” Brian looked at Roger, his arms folded across his chest.

Roger looked at him like it should’ve been obvious what he meant. “He’s the youngest of us, yeah? So… it’s like, he doesn’t know any better, and we should make exceptions when he makes mistakes.”

Freddie and Brian exchanged looks with each other before looking back at the younger man. “Rog, he’s not… our son or… a dog… or whatever. He’s still a grown man who knows right from wrong. He’s just like any of us. I still don’t understand why you’re favoring him over us, darling.”

“I don’t think I can explain it any more, to be honest. If you don’t understand by now, then I guess it’s just hopeless,” Roger shrugged, sitting on the floor as he waited for his shirt to be washed so he could throw it into the dryer.

Brian sighed heavily and walked back into the kitchen with Freddie, feeling like he’d never, ever, understand Roger’s thought processes as long as he lived.


	5. pickup lines only work when I'm drunk

**.     .    .**

“So you’re majoring in Astronomy?”

Brian took a sip of his beer. “Astrophysicists, actually.”

“Oh,” Roger nodded, also drinking more of his own pint before he took a drag of his cigarette that rested between his fingers. He’d be lying if he said he understood anything to do with astrophysics, but he did remember a joke he heard one time.

“Right. So… uhh… would you care to come to my place and experience something else that’s constantly expanding?”

Brian let out the loudest laugh of his life, nearly doing a spit take on the people that were walking past their table and looked over at Roger. “What…? Oh my god… wow. Did you make that up just now?”

Roger chuckled, shaking his head. “I… heard it from someone in the hallway at uni. I thought you might appreciate it.”

The drummer blushed a little, but whether it was because of embarrassment or because of the alcohol, Brian didn’t know. Roger searched the guitarist’s face, feeling his stomach doing flip flops on a continuous loop.

“It was pretty… good?”

“Awful, actually,” Brian chuckled. “Terrible. Anyway, pickup lines only work on me when I’m drunk, and I’ve got a long ways to go, mate.”

Roger smirked and nodded, noting that the other man never denied swinging a certain way. For all he knew, though, this guy could be straight as a board. The two of them had only been playing for about a month now; he knew how fast he was potentially moving, but he wanted to take the chance, just in case.

“Well, we’ll get you there, eventually.” Roger took another drag from his cigarette. “Do you know any pickup lines?”

Brian thought for a minute, taking a long drink of his beer. “Oh, here’s one… ‘Do you want to feel the gravitational pull of my bed?’”

Roger laughed now and cleared his throat, unsure if he wanted to admit that he had used that line before on a girl he knew majored in astronomy, so he didn’t say anything. The sad part was that it had actually worked on her.

“Umm… y-yeah, that’s pretty bad too,” Roger shrugged. “Have any pickup lines ever worked on you before?”

Brian’s eyes widened and he snickered, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Err, yeah. One has… I hate to admit. Let’s see… what was it? Oh yes, ‘Is it a full moon? Because I feel a tidal pull toward your heavenly body.’” Brian laughed softly, shaking his head. “So bad.”

Roger chuckled and bit his lip. He didn’t understand the jokes fully enough to appreciate them, but the fact that Brian appreciated them enough to laugh about it filled the younger man with a warmth he couldn’t even describe. He was happy that Brian was happy. It was in that sort of way.

The two men chatted and finished their first beers before they both moved onto their second and thirds, and by the time they started drinking their fourth ones, they were both feeling pretty good.

Roger had gotten the courage to move closer to the older man, even touching his arm against his own. He felt Brian lean up against his body and even went as far to put his arm around him, but made sure to rest it against the back of the booth so it wasn’t touching him.

Roger felt excitement as he felt the warmth and closeness between both of them. He’d blame it on the alcohol later, but he placed his hand on Brian’s leg a bit shyly. If this was a woman, he’d think nothing of just making out with her in a club, but this was his best friend.

His band mate that he’d still have to live with after it was all said and done. He didn’t want to completely blow this with him.

Not long after he had placed his hand on Brian’s thigh, he felt the other man turn towards him and search his face.

Roger froze. This was it. Brian was going to be freaked out and run away. He waited, three seconds, seven seconds, fifteen, twenty-five… but he didn’t run. Instead, he felt the other man place his own hand on Roger’s leg as well.

“I-I’m pretty inexperienced,” the older man warned him before suddenly backtracking. “I-I mean… not with women… but with… men.”

Roger chuckled, finding the guitarist’s inexperience and nervousness more adorable than he probably should have. “Don’t worry, I can show you the ropes. So… can we go back home and we can feel the gravitational pull of your bed?”

Brian laughed now before he looked at Roger with warm eyes. “Only if you never use that pickup line on me ever again.”


	6. have you ever lied to me?

**.     .     .**

“You’re my best mate, and you’re lying to my face. I can’t believe it.”

Roger groaned dramatically. “I don’t know why it’s so important for you to know, Bri! It’s not even a big deal!”

The guitarist looked at Roger with raised eyebrows. “You’re joking. I gave you money for petrol and groceries, and you came back with nothing except a filled tank. Where’d the rest of the money go, Rog?”

John bit his lip, uncomfortable at Brian and Roger’s row. He never liked confrontations and Roger seemed to live for them. He had no problem getting into arguments, or even physical altercations. Maybe it was what made the blonde feel alive, like playing music was for Brian and John, and singing and writing songs did for Freddie.

The drummer ran his hand through his hair before he lit up a cigarette and took a drag from it before he placed his arm behind John on the couch, looking up at his friend.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Roger!” Brian exclaimed, throwing his arms up. “I expected some money back from you. That was what was leftover after paying rent! So where it go? Did you buy drugs with it, or… give it to some unfortunate homeless chaps? I’m actually looking for an answer here!”

The drummer shrugged and shook his head. “I lost it.”

Brian’s jaw dropped open and he cocked his head to the side slightly. “What? You’ve lost it? Are you bloody serious, mate? Where did you lose it?”

“I don’t know,” Roger shrugged again. “On the street somewhere on the way there, I suppose.”

Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to understand everything before he ended up getting thoroughly upset right now. “You weren’t on the street, Rog. You were in a van.”

“I parked the van and I walked to the store and somewhere between the van and the store is where I lost the money. All right?”

“No,” Brian shook his head. “It’s not all right! That was a lot of money… did you lose it in the parking lot?”

The younger man was looking mildly irritated by the third degree. “I don’t know, Bri. I suppose I did. I’m sorry.”

John watched Roger’s expressions. Something didn’t feel right. He knew Roger inside and out, and something was off with the man.

Brian swore before he grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door.

John tensed and turned to look at him. “Where are you going?”

The guitarist shrugged and scoffed. “I’m going to go see if I can find any of that money in the bloody parking lot or if he’s lying and he bought copious amounts of weed with it instead of groceries.” He turned around and then walked out the door.

John was glad that Freddie wasn’t here to hear this conversation; he’d be freaking out. He’d never let Roger handle any money ever again as long as they both lived.

He looked over at Roger who was quietly smoking now. “Why did you lie to him?”

The drummer turned to look at the younger man. “Sorry? How do you even know I’m lying, Deaky?”

John gave him an amused look.

“Because I _know_ you, and we’ve been together now for several months now. I can tell when you’re lying and you just lied to him, so… where did the money go?”

Roger narrowed his eyes in thought, taking a drag before he sighed, looking unsure.

“I’m not going to tell Brian, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just… tell me. He’ll never know what happened to the money. I just want to know the truth, Roger.”

The blonde breathed in the bassist’s cologne and gave him a somewhat impressed smirk. He’d met his match with this one. “I’ve put it aside for Brian’s birthday next week. I wanted to get him something good.”

“Seriously? You’re saving it up? So… you didn’t buy any drugs with it, then?”

Roger growled playfully. “For fuck’s sake, Deaky, no. I didn’t buy any drugs with it! What kind of person do you think I am?”

John shrugged, smiling at the other man. “The kind that might buy weed with money he was given for groceries,”

Roger rolled his eyes before he snuck a kiss from John and went back to smoking again.

The bassist leaned in the crook of Roger’s body and thought for a long time. His stomach was churning and his head spinning as an uncomfortable thought edged its way to the forefront of John’s mind.

“Have you ever lied to me?”

The timidness and fear in John’s voice made Roger look down at him but he didn’t let go of him, holding him close. “No, John. I’ve never lied to you, about anything, and I never plan to.”

“Are you lying right now?”

Roger kissed the younger man’s hair before he put his cigarette out in the ashtray. “The only time I would ever lie to you would be if it was a life or death situation and lying was the only way I could help you. I haven’t lied to you, though, Deaky. I promise.”

“All right, Rog.”

He cuddled closer to Roger, feeling convinced finally. After a few minutes, he chuckled.

“It probably would’ve been better to tell Brian you _did_ buy weed with his money instead of sending him on a wild goose chase in the parking lot. He’s going to be wandering around for hours now, searching for £130 he’ll never find.”

Roger started to laugh as well and nodded. “Yeah, he probably will.”


	7. take the long way around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad gay Rog/straight Brian.

**.     .     .**

“What way do you want me to take?”

Brian glanced over at Roger who was sniffling and smoking as he plopped himself in the passenger seat solemnly as the rain trickled over the van.

The drummer gave a wave of his hand that was holding the cigarette before he leaned back in his seat. “Take the long way around,” he spoke quietly.

Brian had to strain to hear him over the rain but he gave a nod of acknowledgement before he started to take the longest way home that he knew of. It was a silent ride; the only sound the older man could hear was his best mate occasionally sniffling as he cried just as silently, the only evidence being the tears running down his cheeks. At first glance, he wouldn’t have even noticed Roger was crying if he didn’t know him like the back of his hand.

He turned on the radio, wanting the other man to relax a little but as soon as he turned it on, Roger reached over and switched it off. If this was any other day than today, Brian would have a few choice words for the drummer. Since it wasn’t their usual day, he let Roger have a radio free ride.

“Do you want to talk about it, Rog?” Brian tried gently.

“No.”

Brian wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. He knew it was important Roger talk about this and not hold everything inside, lest it add to his anger. “It’s not easy having your heart broken. It’s difficult.”

“What would you know about having your heart broken, Bri?” Roger challenged, taking a drag of his cigarette before he exhaled.

The guitarist shrugged before he cleared his throat. “I _am_ human, Rog. I have had my heart broken before, believe it or not. It sucks. It… it really fucking sucks. I know how you felt towards him. I’m sorry, mate.” Brian glanced over at him before he made a turn.

There was a long silence in the van but the feeling had shifted. It no longer was thick with anger; it was melancholy and heavy. He heard Roger sniffle again before he saw Roger put his cigarette out to wipe his face. He rubbed his palms on his thighs.

Brian knew this tic. It meant that Roger was anxious, perhaps on the verge of a panic attack.

“I-I just…I thought I was reading the signals, Bri…” Roger sighed shakily, rubbing his eyes roughly. “I-I’m usually pretty good at that, you know? H-He was being so… physical, I don’t know. I fucked things up so bad. Fuck! Fuck it!” Roger yelled suddenly before he hit the glove box a few times.

“Hey!” Brian chided before he reached over and grabbed his arm to stop him. “Breathe, Roger! Just breathe, mate… it’s going to be all right.” He made sure it was safe before he pulled the van over to a nearby parking lot, hearing the younger man’s breathing start to become shaky and uneven.

He put the van in park before he turned to Roger and examined his reddened hand. “What did he say exactly to you?”

The drummer shook his head, pursing his lips as he tried not to cry any harder than he already was. “W-We were hanging out on his couch in the living room, watching telly, and I saw him move closer. S-So I moved closer, a-and then I went in to… to kiss him, and he just… freaked the hell out. He pushed me away and t-told me how he wasn’t a…” Roger took another shaky breath. “How he wasn’t like that, l-like me. He just… told me to get out.”

Brian placed a comforting hand on Roger’s knee, the rain hitting the windows, making taps as it hit the top of the van. “Fuck him, Rog. He’s just a fucking tosser. You deserve better than him anyway.”

“I-I know,” Roger agreed. “But I wanted _him_.”

Brian felt his heart go out to the blonde and tried to fight the urge to go back to that guy’s place and beat the shit out of him for breaking Roger’s heart like this. “Roger, breathe and look at me,” when he watched his friend take a deep breath and then turn his head, he continued.

“There are millions of people in the world, Roger. Don’t let this one guy mess you up forever. You’ll find the right one for you one day, I promise. You may go through three, four, five, ten, twenty, but you’ll find the one person that’s right for you.”

Roger nodded and gave him a weak smirk. “W-what if I already have?”

It took a few moments for Brian to catch his meaning but he chuckled when he did. “Sorry, mate. You’re my best friend but you know I’m as straight as they come.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure I can fix that.”

Brian let out an amused laugh now before he leaned over and playfully messed up Roger’s hair. “That’s one of the things I love about you, Rog; your ability to take me seriously.”

Roger chuckled and wiped his face before he took a deep breath. “All right. I think I’m ready to go back home now.”

“Yeah?” Brian glanced over at him to double check, and when the drummer nodded, he put the van in drive, and then started to drive them back to their flat.

“I mean it, though,” Brian felt the need to reassure him. “You deserve to be with someone who loves you, and treats you right. And if they don’t do either one of those things, then I’ll be here to kick their arse.”

Roger groaned in amused frustration.

“Damn it, Bri! The least you could do is be gay, or at the very least, bisexual. This straight business isn’t doing it for me, mate.”

Brian laughed, looking over at him to see Roger smirking. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Rog. Is my sexual orientation getting in the way of your love life?”

“Yes! As a matter of fact, it is.”


	8. sorry I'm protective over the things I love

**.      .      .**

  
Roger rubbed his eyes tiredly and excused himself as he made his way through the massive crowd of strangers that Freddie had insisted on inviting to this grand party. He recognized a few of Brian’s friends, and had said hello to them, but he didn’t see the person he was specifically scanning the room for.

Freddie came bounding in excitedly but lost his balance slightly and hung onto Roger to help steady himself. “Isn’t this wonderful, darling?”

“If you say so, Freddie,” the drummer shrugged. “Hey, have you seen Deaky?”

Freddie took a long drink of champagne and glanced around the room before he shrugged. “He’s probably take a few minutes to himself. I’m sure he’s all right, dear. _Do_ try and enjoy yourself!” With that, the singer bounded off before steadying his arms on another bloke Roger didn’t recognize.

Roger couldn’t describe it, but he felt an uncertain feeling in his stomach. It was the same feeling he felt when he went on the London Eye for the first time and he looked straight down through the glass. He felt _sick._

For some reason, this made him push through the crowd faster and didn’t stop until he got upstairs to the room he and John had started to share since their newfound relationship. When he pushed open the door, he saw John looking over at him but more importantly, he saw a man bigger than John with his arms trapping the young bassist against the wall, his face dangerously close to him.

“What the fuck are you doing?! Get out! GET THE HELL OUT NOW!” Roger roared before grabbing the back of the guy’s shirt and throwing him hard out of the room, hard enough that it made the stranger land on the floor.

He closed the door and moved quickly over to John to examine him. “Are you all right, John?”

The younger man chewed on his bottom lip but he nodded. “S-Sorry… he said he was a fan, and then he brought me in here and I-I don’t know what happened, Rog. I just… froze.”

Roger placed a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s arm and searched his eyes. It was clear that John had been drinking more than he usually did, and it made Roger sick to think that even a fan, if he was that at all, would take advantage of another human like that.

He scanned the young man again, looking for anything out of place. “Did he do anything? Or… try anything?”

John’s eyes were looking a bit glazed over but he shook his head. “No, he didn’t do anything. How did you know where I even was?”

Roger relaxed now, running a hand through his hair before he shrugged. “I don’t know. I just… had a feeling something wasn’t right and I was looking for you anyway.”

John smirked slightly. “You really pushed him out somewhat roughly. You could’ve hurt him.”

The drummer looked at him in disbelief. “Sorry I’m protective over the things I love! Anyway, he deserved far worse. Who knows what could’ve happened if I hadn’t showed up when I did?” It was a rhetorical question that either man wanted to know the answer to so there was a thick silence in the room before John suddenly spoke.

“You love me, Roger?” John had a sly smile on his face, the heat flushing his cheeks.

Roger chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Deaky. I do. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” he searched the bassist’s face before he shifted a bit uncomfortably, feeling awkwardly insecure now before he added, “do you… you know, love me?”

John grinned brightly before he nodded. “Yes, Rog. I, you know… love you too. Very much so.”

The drummer smiled and relaxed, wrapping his arms around John before he kissed his lips, tasting beer on his lips. That was one of the things that Roger loved about the bassist: he wasn’t into fancy drinks like champagne, and was perfectly happy with just drinking beer, just like himself.

The two men embraced for several minutes before Roger felt John starting to undo his pants and forced himself to pull away, chuckling a bit. “Not until you sober up, Deaky. Sorry, but it’s for your own good.”

The younger man feigned a hurt expression. “I thought you loved me, Rog.”

“Oh, I do, trust me,” Roger did his pants back up again before he ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “I’d just prefer if my boyfriend remember the amazing time I was about to give him in the morning after,” he smirked at him.

John groaned and rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling more than tipsy. “I don’t really want to go back out there.”

“Me either,” Roger agreed, laying on the bed now, yawning. “C’mere,” he put his arm out and John was more than happy to let himself cuddle next to the blonde, wrapping his own arm around Roger before resting his head on his chest.

“I love you…”

“I love you too, Deaks.”


	9. why's there a pregnancy test in the trash?

 

“Are you all right, Freddie? You’re looking quite pale. Coming down with something?”

Brian stared at his friend who looked a bit unsure before he simply pointed towards the garbage bin in the kitchen with a shocked look on his face. The guitarist walked over to the bin before he peered inside and saw what Freddie was looking at.

He chuckled for a moment before he cocked his head to the side. “Oh dear god. Who’s is this, I wonder?”

Freddie raised his eyebrows. “Would you like to take three guesses, Brian?”

The taller man snickered again before he sighed in amusement. “Roger! Would you please come in here a moment?” He called out.

A few minutes later, the blonde appeared and shrugged when he reached the other man. “What is it?”

“Err,” Brian started out, unable to stop himself from laughing quietly. “Why’s there a pregnancy test in the trash, Rog?”

The drummer shifted his weight a bit nervously and cleared his throat. “What makes you think I’d know?”

Brian and Freddie both exchanged looked before looking over at their friend again. “Well… John doesn’t live with us, Fred’s gay, and I don’t currently have a girlfriend at the moment so I’m afraid that leaves you, Roger.”

“Oh.” The blonde ran a hand through his hair looked at them with a defeated look on his face.

Brian sighed, beginning to get impatient. “Well?”

“I-It’s mine,” Roger admitted.

“Roger, Roger… we’ve told you so many times to make sure the other guy uses protection, haven’t we?” Freddie teased.

The drummer looked confused. “What do you mean?”

Brian smirked but shook his head and waved Freddie away dismissively. “Ignore him. He’s being a prat. Do you even know what it read?”

Roger crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. “Of course I know! It’s negative. What, you think I can’t figure out a pregnancy test?”

“I don’t think you can figure out how to cook eggs properly so no, Rog, I don’t believe you can read a pregnancy test. You do realize if it was positive, you’d have quite the responsibility on your hands, right?” Brian looked at Roger like a disapproving father.

“Well… maybe… I’d be an all right father?”

Freddie burst out laughing now before he headed into his bedroom. Brian rolled his eyes and looked at Roger.

“Do you… want to be a father?”

There was a few minutes of silence between them before he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe one day, but not right now. What is this, then? Are you going to scold me for having sex with someone? Jesus, Bri… you really are old-fashioned.”

The guitarist sighed again, shaking his head. “No, Rog. I’m not going to scold you for having sex with anyone.  What even happened? I mean… explain yourself, yeah?”

Roger shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I met her at that club we went to a few weeks ago, and we started making out… then one thing led to another. Then she said she was late, so we got a test, brought it here and she… did it… and then came out to show me. So…that’s it.”

Brian wet his lips before he walked over to Roger. “You’ll be a great father one day, Rog. Just not anytime soon. Keep it wrapped or keep it out of them. Trust me, mate. You can’t have a child when you’re still a child yourself.”

Roger scoffed and groaned, rolling his eyes in a very childlike fashion.

“You sound like my bloody father. Anyway, I usually do use protection. It was just… that one night with her that we sort of… forgot about it.”

“Well just remember that if you sort of forget about it next time, you might sort of end of having a kid.” Brian shrugged a bit and Roger just nodded.

“I know, I know. At least I’m getting some.”

Brian chuckled now. “Are you saying I’m not having any sex?”

“ _Are_ you?”

“I am,” Brian nodded.

“You said you didn’t have a girlfriend!”

The guitarist snickered before he walked over to get another cup of coffee. “I don’t have a girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not getting any.”

Roger seemed to think about this for a while before he finally understood, his eyes widening in realization. “Oh, right. Okay. So can I leave now or are you going to continue to scold me?”

“Depends. What was her name, Roger?” Brian tested.

The younger man’s face scrunched up in confusion again. “Who?”

“For Christ’s sake… the girl you slept with a few weeks back and almost got pregnant. What was her name?”

“Oh. Ummm…. Carla? Katie?” He scratched temple. “Something like that.”

Brian took a deep breath before letting it out again in exasperation. He walked over to Roger before he gently slapped the back of the drummer’s head. “Next time you sleep with a girl, learn her name and memorize it.”

“Ow! That hurt…” Roger whined, rubbing the back of his head.

“Not as much as getting kicked in the balls when you call them the wrong name. Trust me, Rog. I’m helping you.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're having fun reading this, then please subscribe so you can updated when I write new ones!


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